


Mastering

by theblindtorpedo



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (of the Frodo kind), Drabble, Gen, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Holidays, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: They decided to travel to the North Farthing for Yule, away from the pressures and prying eyes of so many family and friends.A small vignette about the hobbits interacting with other Shire-folk post canon, when the world is saved and happy, but the pain of their past sometimes slips through the cracks.
Kudos: 16





	Mastering

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2012. i had intended this to be longer, but alas never got around to it. i love the hobbits and wish we'd had more about them post the War. i still really enjoy this small bit so enjoy it eight years later :)

Although by habit the hobbits of the North were more removed from the affairs of the other three farthings, they were no less hospitable and friendly. Their Lithe day celebrations were similar to that of the other farthings in kind, if not in location. It was common for Tooks to alternate every few years with a visit to distant relatives. Sam and Rosie, who had never witnessed a Lithe outside the White Downs, were beset with initial shyness, but as soon as the ale was brought and the dancing begun were their anxieties quickly assuaged. On the first night, recognition of their guests’ Took lineage placed the Travellers at a grand table, shared by descendents of the great Bullroarer. Save for Sam, who insisted that he fall into his position.

“There be no way of finding my brother Halfred if I’m in such high and fine company. He’d not recognize me.” he said. They granted him such logic and he and Rosie parted from them for the duration of the celebrations. He was not missed, there was much to do, marvelous distractions. The mushroom crop had been substantial and all had so much to eat that the usual carting off of those who fell asleep from to full stomach was forgone, and the others simply moved around them. The northern Hobbits had an affinity for music and the songs were splendid. Merry had lost count of the number of lasses he had twirled by the second day, though he could name them each by sight. What gentleman would he be if he could not? When he did not dance he sat at table taking in the frolicking around him and accumulating upon his knee a number of curious hobbit children, whom he regaled with tales of Rohan.  _ You’ll turn into Mr. Bilbo yet, Meriadoc, _ he laughed to himself. He was fond of the thought.

But in his merriment, he would often glance at Frodo with concern. He feared the pressures of full participation might prove taxing. While most knew that he was often ill, he worried there could be those disgruntled by the tangible melancholy that could hover over his cousin. While Frodo seemed to be doing well, engaging in small talk and dancing a few numbers, there was tacit agreement that they should leave if he showed signs of serious distress. At times Merry saw his cousin’s eyes, before focused on the face of whomever he was presently engaging with, turn frantic and flit nervously to and fro, searching. Ever aware of his master’s needs, Sam would remain within eyesight, mingling with the workmen and farmers at the edge of the field. Whether Sam met his gaze or not, Frodo drew strength from the sight of him in his element: talking of the seemingly bountiful coming harvest, joking over the tale of a pig gone astray or displaying his young wife to the admiration (and perhaps jealousy) of any male hobbits present. Frodo would smile genuinely then, and as if he drew strength from the steadfast Gamgees, his vigor would return. Giving a quick whisper of apology and with a twinkle in his eye as he swept them into another tune, his partner would be none the wiser as to his troubles. Merry wondered at it and thought to his own solo times with the wine cellar. Had he not seem Frodo at Weathertop, feared for his cousin’s life as he held the cold, shaking body, he would not have believed Sam when he spoke darkly of common night terrors and daily silent tears.


End file.
